


malignant

by unholyconfessions (orphan_account)



Series: cure for the enemy [3]
Category: Chicago Med
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Episode Related, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Set During 1.05 - Malignant, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/unholyconfessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You take it out on those closest to you, they say. Zanetti is the first to get caught in the crossfire. To Connor's surprise, Will is the second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	malignant

**Author's Note:**

> I am just loving the tension between everyone on this show. Connor has got to be one of my favorite characters ever. I love writing him. This is a bit more introspective, but I hope there's enough Rhodestead to keep us all going. For now I'm having fun with the slow burn, but expect more for the next one. ;-)
> 
> Thank you all for sticking around. Feedback is love.
> 
> Happy reading!

Connor can handle colleagues doubting his methods, or the people from Fire and PD breathing down his neck after every decision he makes concerning Herrmann, or even Zanetti and her ever-present belligerence that is only flattering in bed, not the operating room. 

They’re all concerned about a friend, but so is he and, somehow, they all fail to see that. Still, he’s a doctor first and a person second; he buries the bitterness and insecurity in a secluded corner of his mind, breathes deep through his nose and does what needs to be done.

Until it starts to spill over the sides; a wave of anxiety uncoiling in his stomach as he’s questioned on matters that don’t concern his ability as a doctor but his integrity as a person—and that, he can’t handle. 

You take it out on those closest to you, they say. Zanetti is the first to get caught in the crossfire, but he makes sure to apologize later, because that’s not a bridge he’s willing to burn just yet.

To his surprise, Will is the second. It’s not a bad thing, he doesn’t think. They’ve always butted heads, and he believes that makes them better doctors, but he never expected Will to undermine him like this.

“Look, Jay asked, so I told him,” is Will’s response when Connor raises the question.

Connor doesn’t push it. Not for himself or even the look April shoots his way as he sets his jaw, but for their patient. They can’t save her, in the end, and Will looks at him but doesn’t judge him, not really, because the loss of a life outweighs everything else.

That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? No one wants to risk losing a life, especially one close to them. He, better than anyone, knows what it means. To lose something, someone so dear to you—it isn’t about assigning blame or knowing there’ll be a gaping hole in your chest for the rest of your life. It’s about everything that comes with it: the self-doubt, the uncertainty, the fear of realizing that you, and you alone, could’ve done something different, something to keep them there.

No one wants to feel that way. Not him, not Severide, not Will. He understands that, but he still needs to do his job to the best of his ability, and that’ll never happen if he allows people to get inside his head—so he doesn’t.

He’d be lying if he said Severide’s apologetic tap on his arm and quiet, “Thank you,” as he’s leaving didn’t soothe his nerves in the slightest. Or that running into Will on his way to see Dr. Charles doesn’t make them go haywire again, until they come to a stop and Will turns to look at him.

“Look, I wasn’t there when Herrmann came in. It wasn’t my place to say anything,” he says, and the way he says it almost makes Connor want to laugh, like he rehearsed it so many times that the words became empty. “I shouldn’t have.”

Connor can’t think of anything to say. He nods, instead, just to let Will know that it’s fine, that their relationship hasn’t changed for better or worse because of it, that tomorrow they’ll be butting heads again, and that they’ll be better people because of it.

Better friends, even.


End file.
